Eric Roberts is singing the patter parts in all of this year's professional shows. He is not a subtle performer, but his reactions and mannerisms are hilarious. I liked his Chancellor, but the performance was seriously marred by an unusual number of flubs. I didn't hear whether he did the same at the matinee, but one certainly expects a professional actor to be better prepared.

Gillian Knight, on the other hand, is picture perfect. She has been performing the contralto parts for four decades, but she is still in top form. She not only looks lovely, but she sings and acts with great sensitivity. She sang "Oh, foolish fay" about as beautifully as I've ever heard, with a riveting pianissimo on the last refrain.

Rebecca Knight, Gillian's daughter, was as winsome a Phyllis as ever I've heard, making the Peers' attentions not only believable, but practically a command of chorused nature. She has mastered the art of being sexy, yet innocent, at the same time. Unlike her mother, she will not be appearing at Covent Garden anytime soon. She has a breath control problem that, on a professional level, would not be tolerated. I hope she is able to fix it, as she's a performer I'd like to see more of.

Mark Oldfield (Strephon) was apparently doing his first G&S role, and although it was not the most polished performance, his interpretation showed great promise, and there was terrific chemistry between himself and Rebecca Knight. He shone particularly in his scene with the Lord Chancellor, mustering romantic extravagance in his evocation of the brooks, the gales, the vales, and the mountains.

I've enjoyed everything I've seen Gareth Jones do, and his Mountararat was another highlight. His insouciant upper-class condescension was probably the best I've ever heard live, nearly matching Donald Adams on the D'Oyly Carte recording. Barry Clark is a bit past his prime, but he was still a very credible Tolloller, and he was a wonderful foil to Jones in their Act II dialogue.

Michael Rayner usually delivers a top-flight performance, but he seemed in some distress as Private Willis, the voice having taken on a rough, woolly sound that shows signs of strain at the top. I am told that this problem was evident in his other roles, too. He found some fun in the role, but it was below his past standard.

I'm told that there was a last-minute substitute for Iolanthe, but I didn't get her name. Hers was a competent interpretation, but I've seen amateurs who did it better. It is beyond me why Janet Cowley, who surely is a far more solid Iolanthe, was relegated to the tiny role of Fleta, but she was probably the best Fleta ever. The other two small fairy parts were given adequate readings.

Derek Collins's production had, as typical of him, much to admire and a few things to detest. The opening fairy numbers were beautifully staged, with considerably more choreography than I might have expected. The Act I finale also enjoyed a rousing staging. At the end of Act II, when the Queen said "You are all fairies from this moment," she waved her wand, there was a flash of light, and the stage instantly transformed to fairyland. Collins's amateur group did this last year too, and I still find it a refreshing idea.

Yet, when Strephon sings "Mighty protectress, hasten to my aid," why did a trunkless arm need to shove a telephone on stage, so that he could dial in his call for help? The recognition scene, late in Act II, received one of the less sympathetic stagings I've seen, with the Lord Chancellor never really getting a good look at Iolanthe before he realizes who she is.

There were also a distressing number of totally unmotivated entrances and exits. For example, the Lord Chancellor, Mountararat, Tolloller, and the Fairy Queen, were all offstage for the last section of the Act I finale ("With Strephon for your foe"). Gilbert specifically calls for a final confrontation between the Queen and the Chancellor, and although Collins substituted an equally compelling tableaux with Strephon and Phyllis, it still didn't quite make sense. More bizarre, Tolloller strolled offstage just before "When Britain really ruled the waves," strolling back on when it was over.

The old D'Oyly Carte had a number of places in the operas where principals were sent off stage against all reason. For example, Robin Oakapple would leave during "When the night wind howls," and Ruth would leave during the Pirate King's song. I suppose the purpose was to give the marquee performers a bit of extra time to rest. But, for a show that's given only twice, such an approach makes no sense.

Despite far too many fluffs and dropped lines (Strephon, Phyllis, and the Lord Chancellor especially), this was still a delightful evening at the theater -- a production that, sadly, all too few people will have seen.